[Tig isn't expecting it when she reaches for him, isn't expecting the contact let alone the squeeze. It helps and hurts, loosens and tightens all at the same time; he wants a drink, he wants to leave, he wants to hug her and never let go. He lets her maintain contact for a few moments, then pulls his hand away. Better that way, he figures. But he nods, dropping his gaze, gives a halfhearted shrug.]

Yeah, alright. Fine. I won't look into it. But only 'cause you asked me not to. And if it happens again I won't make the same deal.